Page 24 of Gabe

“It would make sense,” the director shrugged. “Grudges fade over time, and constantly living on the run gets tiring. If David Russo extended them amnesty in exchange for their services, the offer might look tempting.”

I’d never heard anything so idiotic. Both Damien and Sebastian Roth hated David Russo with a passion and would never work for him. However, before I could argue that, Director Thornton interrupted me.

“But as I said, that was my suspicion. I have a new one now.” He looked at me again, and the stress melted off him. For a moment he looked like the commanding leader I’d always known. “Gabe. Why did you kill Agent Adder?”

Everything went silent. I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat. My blood felt like ice in my veins and my mouth opened and closed several times before it would work properly.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Gabe,” the director sighed. “He’s dead. I saw the body myself. I know your handiwork. No one else patches up their victims while questioning them. What happened? Did you accidentally go too far? Or did you get everything you needed out of him, so you disposed of him?”

Every word out of the director’s mouth made me angrier until I had no choice but to move, or else I would explode. I jumped off the bench and spun around to face the director. That put my back toward the open lake, leaving me vulnerable, but I didn’t care.

“Blake was alive when I left him. Yes, I roughed him up. He was working for the Mariano family, and I needed answers. What was his cause of death? None of the injuries I caused would have killed him.”

When I jumped up from the seat, the director pulled out his gun, which now pointed directly at my chest.

“That’s what you’re going with, Gabe? Blake Adder was the mole?”

I watched the gun. His finger was off the trigger, so he wasn’t ready to shoot me yet. “Well, one of the moles. I’m sure there are others.”

Instinct raised the hair on the back of my neck. The director’s gun wasn’t the only weapon pointed my way.

So many pieces fell into place all at once, it was like a picture suddenly bloomed in my mind.

“You think I’m the mole.”

“Can you blame us?” the director said. His weapon never wavered. “Think about how it looks. You were living with the Roth brothers and had plenty of opportunity to plant that bomb in their apartment. Then you steal the witnesses away from witness protection and won’t tell anyone where they are. After that, you immediately turn around and kill the agent who was investigating the attempts on the Roth brothers’ lives. One of those things would be incriminating enough, but all together... I’m sorry, Gabe, but there’s no getting out of this one.”

My jaw ached from how hard my teeth ground together. “You really think I would work for David Russo? After the Mariano family killed my own sister?”

I nearly reached for my own weapon but managed to control my anger enough to keep my hands in plain sight. One wrong move from me would spell my end. There was no telling how many people had weapons pointed at me in that moment, or how twitchy their trigger fingers were.

The director’s gun lowered a fraction, so it was no longer pointed directly at my heart. “There’s no evidence that the Mariano family killed your sister. You’re the only one who has ever made such a claim. For all we know, that could be a clever story for you to hide behind. Please, Gabe, just come quietly. There’s no reason to make this worse than it already is.”

What could I say to such an accusation?

There were no words to express the sense of loathing and betrayal that coursed through me.

“I’m not?—”

That was as far as I got. Before I could utter more than two words, something wet and warm splattered my face. My vision was tinted red, but I could still see Director Thornton sitting on the bench just as he had been for our whole conversation.

Except now there was a hole blown right through his head.

The gun fell from his hand, and he slumped over on the ground.

I moved before I realized what I was doing and jumped behind the bench. Luckily, it was made of metal, or else I would have died as several more bullets lodged in the bench. Based on their size, they came from large caliber guns that would have pierced right through a wooden bench and taken my head with them.

There was no way to even know who was shooting. Bullets seemed to come from everywhere. No direction was safe.

The car. If I could just get to my car, then I could drive to safety.

I’d barely taken a step away from the bench and toward the parking lot when a bullet struck the ground right in front of my foot.

Not that way. I’d never reach the car before I was shot to pieces.

The wisteria tree might provide some cover. At least better than the meager bench.

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